I had the unique experience the other day of meeting someone who seemed to be free of residual anger.
He was my new grandson, just a few weeks old, so I guess it was not surprising. In truth, he seemed innocent of most human emotions. He did not cry, possibly because he was premature; apparently preemies don’t cry much until they grow into their lungs some months later. Still, his parents and I were amazed that he seldom complained, and when he did squawk at something we were doing (like trying to get his tiny arm down the sleeve of a fresh outfit), he immediately quieted down when the trauma was over. I looked at his father, my own son, and said: “It’s like the baby has no residual anger to tap into. When the bad thing goes away, life is just fine again.”
How I wish this precious little boy could retain his innocence! But, no, anger is one of the inescapable burdens of life, and over time my grandson will learn all about it. Daddy will refuse him another cookie, yet again; Mommy will be stubborn about bedtime. By the time he’s two, I’m sure he’ll be tapping into a well of residual frustration and crying his head off.
Like toddlers, most of us have a well of residual anger to tap into, and these days it feels like my cup runneth over. New things that anger me keep happening, at an unprecedented pace. Some are things I can manage or change, but many are problems I have no control over and I know I’ll have to find a way to live with them. But that is difficult, and I can feel the residual anger settling in my heart.
I wish I could figure out what to do with my anger. Throw pillows? March out the door for a long, exhausting walk? Sometimes I can’t even tell why I’m so angry. Am I truly angry at my husband for some minor infraction, or am I mad and frustrated and deeply disappointed in the world instead? And if it’s the world, then what do we do with that?
As Quakers, we strive to be peaceful in our interactions, but our testimonies also encourage us to be honest and say what we really believe. Inevitably, then, many of us struggle with our anger – anger at others, anger over facing tough circumstances, or the righteous anger many of us share over the state of the world. But it’s hardly “Quakerly” to go stomping around mad as hell.
At times like these, I make myself sit down in a pool of silence so I can get back to the tenets of our Quaker faith. I think on the Peace testimony, which urges us to find non-violent resolutions to problems, including the problems we have with ourselves; the Integrity testimony, which asks us to speak our truth but not to use it as a bludgeon; the Equality and Community testimonies, which point us toward compassion and understanding of others. And I also think of the Quakers’ long history of witnessing and taking action when times get bad. We do not need to accept the world as it is; we can do what we can to make it better. Just taking a few minutes to pass my anger through the filters of Quaker testimony helps me ground myself anew.
As I gaze down at my little grandson I wonder what it would feel like to just experience the world as it comes – good things and bad passing like a breeze rather than piling up in my heart. I can scarcely imagine it. Inspired by him, I’m trying now to find ways to restore my emotional balance more readily, just as our little Buddha seems able to do. I breathe first, then ask which way my Quakerly compass might be pointing. Is it time to speak a truth? Is it time to take action? Is it time to forgive someone, listen to others, or offer comfort? Psychologists will tell you that anger is a message. Instead of stuffing it away and letting it fester, perhaps we should listen to what our hearts are trying to say.
Wendy Swallow, Blog Editor, Reno Friends Meeting
(The opinions expressed above are not necessarily those of Reno Friends Meeting)